Poignancy of Anger
by SphinxScribe
Summary: AU, between TPM and AOTC: When a blown-up argument between Master and Padawan leads to a defiant late-night escapade and a resulting swoop-bike accident, sixteen-year-old Anakin is forced to hide the evidence from his master. But how long can he hide his injuries? And how will Obi-Wan react when he finds out? Not slash.
1. Temple Turmoil

Chapter One: Temple Turmoil

The eyes of everyone were on Anakin as he finally summoned his feet to carry him from the room entrance to his seat in the Temple classroom. Wishing the marble floors of the Temple could swallow him up, he shamefully hustled to his place and took a seat. He was late. Again.

"…Padawan Skywalker," announced the cool voice of Master Sia-Drury when he had finally summoned the courage to lift his gaze. Her eyebrow rose to challenge his obvious interruption to her lecture. Master Sia-Drury, like all other Jedi Masters in the Temple, had mastered emotional control, but Anakin had already learned enough from his own Master's subtle manifestations to read the signs; though her face was placid, he could see that Master Sia-Drury was not happy. "Thank you for making it here. I hope in the future you will come to understand that the absence of a single padawan will not cause the lessons to wait."

"Yes, Master," Anakin replied stiffly, reddening more from the disapproving stares of his peers around him than the stern gaze of Master Sia-Drury. Why did she have to criticize him in front of all the others? Although the scholar did not seem to be placated by the poorness of his apology, a slight dip of his head in embarrassment seemed to appease her, and the Iktotchi master turned her attention back to the lesson with only a tightening of her lips.

As the lesson resumed, Anakin felt his muscles slowly relax once more. It was not the first time he had been late, and it would definitely not be the last time he would have to be excused. It was just that sometimes he would look at a chrono and realize time had raced away from him. He was already lectured constantly by Obi-Wan about it, but somehow – however hard he seemed to try – he always seemed to making mistakes in one way or another. A flush of anger accompanied the thought. And others always seemed to be criticizing him.

Finally relaxing enough to extend his attention off of the Iktotchi master and to other parts of the classroom, he could already feel the disapproving stares of the other padawans. That wasn't anything different, either, but it sure made him feel uncomfortable under their scrutiny. Somehow, he could never please them, either.

Lessons passed remarkably fast, though because of Anakin's distracted mind or because he had made it so late to class, he was unsure. Not that he wanted to contemplate the latter. Either way, when lessons ended, he practically shot towards the door, hoping to avoid an unwanted lecture from Master Sia-Drury. Slipping between the patches of padawans exiting the Temple classroom, he made it out before Master Sia-Drury could even turn her attention toward him.

He did not, however, escape the unwelcome looks of the fellow padawans he cut off in his hasty escape. Many shot him hostile glares, others suspicious stares, and some –even worse – sympathetic glances. Above all else, Anakin hated the sympathetic glances. They felt sticky to him, too fake, and he hated receiving them. Obi-Wan said it was because of his pride. But it was just that he didn't like being the center of attention in that way. He wished it would stop. But for some reason, he continued to consistently elicit polar sides of the reaction spectrum.

It did not help his waning dignity that a mere ten seconds later he suddenly stumbled and ended up dropping his books on his toes. A curse fell form his mouth as they fell open, corners bending and pages crinkling horribly as he tried to grab the tumbling books. He blushed angrily at the embarrassment of bending to pick them up. Obi-Wan said it was just the clumsiness of growing, but that didn't help his damaged pride. There were a couple snorts here and there, but for the most part the padawans mostly just brushed by. He could see their cloaks whisking by around him, sending cool breezes across his hot cheeks.

"What can you expect from an outsider?" came a voice from above as Anakin bent down to herd his things together. "This is why Temple-born padawans are best for the Order. Perhaps the Council will consider that in the future."

Perhaps it was the fact that the harsh statement had been phrased in such a cool manner, or the fact that Anakin knew that the one who had uttered it likely felt nothing more than a vague interest in him, but either way, he immediately felt his face grow warmer, and his chest fluttered with anger. Anakin straightened up to meet the person face-on.

He was met with the cool expression of Nighil'Tel, a fellow Padawan.

"There are no such things as _Temple-born Padawans_," Anakin retorted to him.

"But perhaps an optimal age for bringing children in," Tel finished. "Obviously that age is under nine." He met Anakin's gaze coolly, but the scarcely observable defiant spark in his eyes was what set Anakin off.

"Is that what you think?" snapped Anakin. Who did he think he was? He was not on the Council. He was not even close to becoming a Knight. Anakin was already more powerful than him in combat, smarter than him at lessons. Who was he to give his opinion? To his increasing annoyance, the Zabrak did not seem affected by his angry reply. The padawan simply raised an eyebrow, managing to keep that expression of impenetrable indifference that Anakin still had yet to master. At least, as Obi-Wan constantly reminded him.

"I am not the only one who thinks so," the padawan replied. "The simple fact is that someone so adjusted to worldly customs has harder times adjusting to life as Jedi than one who had been raised in the Temple itself-"

"You mean sheltered?" snapped Anakin in return. He was sick of it – everyone looked at him as if he was different. He got that enough from Obi-Wan and from the other masters on the Council. Just because he was born on a back world did not mean he was inferior to the others. In fact, his abilities said otherwise. "You think you're better than I am because the Jedi found you first? That's simple coincidence."

"No," the Zabrak replied, his eyes flickering up and down Anakin's form. Anakin could not help it, he could not help but feel a rush of heat at the state of his clothing, which, compared to the neat robes of Tel, were sloppy and misaligned from his haste to come to lessons. "I think that a _true_ Jedi has more control than you. I don't know why you were picked first as an apprentice, but at this point, I would assume that Master Kenobi and the Council regret moving so fast. Hopefully they'll consider that in the future."

That stirred up pangs of pain Anakin did not want to relive. "I was chosen first because Obi-Wan _decided_ to take me!" he replied hotly. "_Your_ master apparently had a low selection of initiates to choose from."

"You were chosen first because Master Jinn commanded him to do so," replied Tel. He, surprisingly, did not seem bothered by Anakin's insult, only causing Anakin's anger to escalate. Anakin ground his teeth as the padawan continued, "News like that might be hushed, but it's never silenced. Master Kenobi had little other choice – it was a promise to a dying man. And wishes like that are respected, no matter how irrational."

"And you think you knew better than a Jedi Master?" challenged Anakin. "Qui-Gon knew I should be trained!"

"Master Jinn knew he could not leave you in slavery. However much potential you had, a portion of the choice was out of pity. He felt he had to repay your services in some way. He felt he could not leave you in slavery. A portion of Master Jinn was always weak in that aspect. He was always bringing home _pets _of some sort…"

Anakin felt his ears and cheeks flush with heat. "Qui-Gon had a _heart_," hesnappedrashly. "Unlike your Jedi Master, who cannot see past the bridge of her nose and has the emotional range of a training remote."

That got Tel to blush. Although the Zabrak's face was a gray-brown hue, darker splotches appeared on his cheeks, and his eyebrows finally descended. "My Master is considered more prestigious than Master Jinn had ever been, and than your master ever will be, for this very reason. Or at least if you continue to stain your master's reputation with your characteristic and foolish emotional displays. You have no control, and it reflects badly on Kenobi. Everyone thinks so."

Something inside of Anakin snapped at that, but as he opened his mouth to retaliate angrily, the books slipped once more from his grasp and once again onto his toes, sending pain and embarrassment shooting through him at his lack of finesse, both of which transformed into further anger as Anakin reached down to collect them once more.

"Why is it hard to accept the fact that you should not have been trained?" Tel continued. "Is it because you do not want to be looked upon as a charity case? Because you wish to fit in with the Temple? You make no efforts to adopt our lifestyle, or your attempts are feeble. Because you know that you won't ever be anything more than a slave boy that should never have been trained? Perhaps it would have been better for the Temple if you had been left in the slave shop-"

Anakin could not remember precisely what happened next, but the next thing that he was conscious of was that he was rolling on the marble floors with the Zabrak, books and papers tossing crazily all over as he tried to punch the impenetrable calm from the Zabrak's face…

* * *

"_Mmmm_. Anger, aggression! A Jedi craves not these."

An hour later, the small form of Master Yoda paced back and forth in front of the two cross-legged Padawans, his gimer stick tapping the ground with each stressed word.

"_Shame_, Padawans have brought on us today," he continued forcefully. He paused his pacing to look at both of the silent Padawans, but his gaze rested longer on Anakin. When he saw Anakin drop his gaze in discomfort, the creature's eyebrows only lowered in severity and he gave a deep, disapproving _hmmmm_. After a moment, however, he turned his attention to Tel.

"Padawan Nighil'Tel." He pointed his gimer stick at the Padawan's check, scowling at him. "A Jedi has _not_ pride or arrogance, though both have you shown today. Contacted, your master has been. Instructed, she has been, in reminding you of this." Yoda brought his gimer stick down in emphasis.

"Yes, Master Yoda," replied Tel with a dip of his head. A short rush of disgust pulsed through Anakin at his fellow padawan's quick and unquestionably genuine repentance. Tel was blind, reflecting nothing but the narrow views of the Order like the perfect Jedi padawan he was. It made Anakin angry that as mindless and _senseless_ as he was, padawans like _Tel _were the ones who received praise and laud. Anakin got nothing but continuous criticism, though he accomplished above and beyond what Tel would ever manage.

Anakin felt his stomach twist in apprehension as he felt Yoda's eyes once more upon him, hoping he could not sense his thoughts. He knew Yoda had already contacted his master as well, and Anakin knew Obi-Wan would be severely irked when he came to collect him, especially if Yoda gave a bad report. Obi-Wan would probably proceed to give Anakin another one of his long and ostentatious lectures, which would turn into an argument, which would end up in Anakin being punished or reprimanded. It seemed that Obi-Wan was always displeased with him, no matter what Anakin did. He was never happy, and certainly never _proud_ of Anakin. Perhaps Tel was right – perhaps he was a disgrace to Obi-Wan's name.

Another deep _hmmmm_ from Master Yoda only increased Anakin's discomfort.

"Padawan Nighil'Tel, free to go, are you," he said, but his eyes were narrowed on Anakin. Anakin tensed his jaw as Tel, with a respectful nod towards the Grand Master, rose and left the two alone in an uncomfortable silence. He knew it was coming, the inevitable scolding on how he was not acting in a manner befitting of a Jedi. It seemed that Master Yoda already knew it had been Anakin who had started the fight, judging from the tone of the Grand Master's voice and his less-than-warm treatment of him. Somehow, Yoda had known before he had even addressed the two. Anakin did not know what that said about him, but he feared it meant that he had an even lower standing in the eyes of the Council than previously assumed.

"Contacted, your master has been, young Skywalker," Yoda finally told him. "Something to say, have you?"

Anakin simply lowered his head. There was nothing to say. He had been provoked, but that was no excuse, at least not for the Order, and definitely not for Yoda. He had lost him temper, yet again. It seemed as it he would never measure up to the expectations of the masters. He seemed to fail Obi-Wan time and time again. At least he was growing used to the reprimanding.

"Know you are at fault, do you?"

"Yes, Master Yoda," Anakin replied.

"Work harder, you must, in _controlling your emotions_," Yoda stressed.

Annoyance seeped through Anakin. "I do _try_, Master Yoda."

"Do or do not do. There is no-"

"There is no try – yes, I know," Anakin snapped, before he had even realized he had interrupted the Grand Master. He quickly flushed, but his anger did not fade.

A deep _hmmmm _from Master Yoda was the sign of disapproval he received. "Much anger and hurt I sense in you, young Skywalker. If control these, you cannot, then impede you, they will."

Anakin bit back a retort. Perhaps he could argue with Obi-Wan, but arguing with the Grand Master seemed less inviting.

"If a Jedi you wish to be, you must _rid_ yourself of these," Yoda told him.

* * *

The trek back to the dormitories was anything but pleasant for Anakin. Although Obi-Wan did not scold him immediately, as Anakin suspected he might, he already knew he was angry. Livid, in fact. Throughout the years, he had gotten to know his master well enough to see past the calmness and cordiality that the others at the Temple witnessed day to day. He could read his master's emotions, especially his anger, through the small signs – the pulsing vein in his temple, the slight way his jaw bunched beneath his beard, or the stiff stiltedness in his voice and manner… And right now, all of these were present – Obi-Wan was not only angry, Obi-Wan was furious.

The stiff silence continued until Obi-Wan and Anakin reached Obi-Wan's room. They had barely made it into the room before Anakin could not take it any longer.

"Well, are you going to lecture me or not, Master?" he demanded, whirling around once the door to the room had slid shut behind them. He didn't mean for it to come out as angrily as it did, but the release of tension seemed to cause his tone to come across as aggressive.

Although his blank features did not shift, a vein pulsed at Obi-Wan's temple as Anakin whirled to face him confrontationally. "I'm amazed at you, Padawan," he told Anakin. His voice was low and calm, but Anakin could hear it. Regret. Disappointment. "After all these years, you do not have the self control to withhold yourself."

Anakin felt a flush of outrage. Why did his master constantly assume that it was his fault? He tore himself away angrily in reaction. Well, what else could he expect from Obi-Wan? It wasn't as if Obi-Wan ever sided with him anyway. Disgust rose inside of him. "You haven't even asked what happened," Anakin accused him, his eyes narrowing at the obviously irked expression on his master's face.

An eyebrow rose on Obi-Wan's features at Anakin's lack of control. "I've gained enough information from Master Yoda and Master Sia-Drury to put pieces together," he replied coolly, though Anakin could sense the barely-subtle closure in his tone. He was apparently not in the mood to listen to excuses.

Anakin let out a yell of frustration. He didn't care what Obi-Wan did or did not want to hear. He was not fully responsible! "He goaded me!" Anakin's hand slashed through the air impatiently. "He had _no right_ to make the accusations that he did-"

"_Enough_, Anakin!" Obi-Wan snapped, with such sudden vehemence that Anakin was immediately silent. Obi-Wan folded his hands in his sleeves, but his eyes did not falter from their narrowed gaze. "That does not change the fact that you are a Jedi, my_ Padawan_, and are expected to act in a manner befitting."

"You aren't even curious about what he said!" Anakin yelled in return. "Should I allow another to _insult_ me, to insinuate that I am not as good as the other padawans-!"

"It does not concern me what Padawan Nighil'Fel did or did not say," Obi-Wan interrupted, and his waspish tone booked no room for arguments. "Of all my years as a Jedi, I have never encountered another padawan with such a disdain for rules." Anakin flushed in anger and was about to reply, but Obi-Wan quickly overrode him. "Perhaps it was your raising, or perhaps I have somehow failed you along the way, but neither gives you an excuse to sink as low as you have today."

The comment hit Anakin harder than he expected. "Is that what you think?" he snapped back rashly.

"Your disdain for rules and apparent incapacity to react with anything but your own emotions has put me in a difficult situation as your master, Anakin," he replied. "My promise to Qui-Gon was that I would raise you as a Jedi – even if I had to go against the Council wishes – and yet your actions have only confirmed the validity of the Council's original reservations. The Council's only reassurance is my promise that I will correct your disruptive behavior, yet how can I train you if you consistently ignore my teachings?"

"I don't ignore your teachings, Master!" snapped Anakin.

"But you do disobey my wishes and force me to go against the Council to defend you," Obi-Wan finished for him. "You are a rash and prideful young man, Anakin, and you cannot expect others to cater to your whims and delusions. It's already hard enough to defend you as it is." His brow lowered dangerously, and his eyes scanned Anakin intensely.

Anakin felt his face flush. Most of the anger he was feeling was coming from self-consciousness – he felt extremely flustered at his master's intense scrutiny – but Anakin was too proud to admit it. Instead, he raised his chin proudly and tried to calm his breathing, which, either because of his anger or because of the hurt that was stemming from his master's comments, was erratic. After a few beats of silence in a standoff of wills, Anakin accused him, "You're saying you don't want me as your apprentice. Am I not good enough for the illustrious Obi-Wan?"

"Be _reasonable_, Anakin," Obi-Wan snapped.

He took a step closer to Obi-Wan, trying to appear more domineering than his stone-faced master. "You correct me constantly. You expect me to listen to you, but you never do anything except criticize my actions. I have the highest marks in my classes! I've bested all the other padawans in combat! I've gone above and beyond others my age! Why can't you see my accomplishments too, instead of dwelling on my faults and making me feel like I have to constantly deserve your attention?"

Obi-Wan did not seem to be affected by Anakin's aggressive emotions and words. He drew himself up, steeling his gaze on Anakin, and even though both he and Anakin were about the same height, Anakin felt as if he was once more a young boy. "You may be high-achieving, young Padawan," he began stonily, "But you are highly illogical and unstable in all else. If you followed rational thoughts, for once, instead of living off of the barely stable emotion you possess, perhaps you would attain better standing among your peers and in the eyes of the Council. Though your current emotional outburst suggests you desire this, your consistently improper actions in the Temple have formed a pattern that speaks otherwise. Believe me, Anakin, it is most discouraging to all who try to help you when you reject their help and disgrace their efforts."

Anakin just clenched his jaw and tore his gaze away from his master's, feeling his throat close up from frustration and hurt. He felt sick with frustration and anger, but even he knew that arguing further with his master would get him nowhere. Anakin lifted his jaw. Fine. If Obi-Wan refused to listen, then so be it. But he would certainly not have the last say.

Not having anything else to say to his master, Anakin turned sharply and left his master's chambers.


	2. Avoidance and Regret

Chapter Two: Avoidance and Regret

The conversation caused Anakin to dwell much longer than he would have liked to admit to admit to anyone else. Perhaps it was the fact that he rarely had fights that escalated quite like the one he had just partaken in. Perhaps it was because hurtful words had been exchanged on both sides. Perhaps it was the fact that for one of the few times Anakin had ever witnessed, Obi-Wan had lost his temper.

Anakin sighed, staring at the ceiling above his bed. He tried not to think about it. He didn't _want _to think about it, to dwell on it. But his feelings were hurt, no matter how he steeled his heart, features, or mind. It was because after all these years, he still looked up to Obi-Wan like a father, still desired his appreciation and praise, and still wished to be noticed and acknowledged. And so his master's words had hit much more painfully than he had expected.

Obi-Wan never truly understood why he lashed out so easily at other people. Perhaps Tel was somewhat right; perhaps it had to do with the fact that he had spent the first years of his life in a much different environment than all the other padawans – unlike them, he had experienced fear, hate, loss, and the love of a mother. And, unlike the others, he still continued to do so. But this was only part of the reason. The other half was the fact that he had never gotten along with his peers. When Anakin had first come to the Temple, it had taken more than a few tries and a few heartbreaks to realize that the other padawans in the Temple were not interested in being his friend, something that the young and naïve Anakin had found particularly difficult to understand. Maybe it was jealousy wrought on by the fact that he had been chosen as an apprentice before many of his peers that spurred the hostility and the mockery. Maybe it was out of spite for such an out-of-place newcomer that the Council had made an exception for. Maybe it was pure envy of the talent and the attention bestowed upon him. Any way, however, it soon became very difficult for a young and insecure boy to understand.

That wasn't to say he didn't try. He tried to make friends, he really did. And he would make one now and then. But the friendships, which he clung so desperately to, were tentative and cautious, subject to change depending on environment and if other padawans were around. None of these friendships made Anakin feel secure in his new home, and none of them lasted longer than a few months before his friends became distant. At first, it upset him. But after seven long years, he was beginning to grow used to the ache. He was beginning to think that he was the one who was at fault. Perhaps that was the reason why he was so sensitive to their comments.

Anakin swallowed thickly. Though his throat was feeling tight, he was not about to break down or have a cry session with Obi-Wan. He was far too stubborn for that. No, if Obi-Wan wanted him, he would have to come find him.

Anakin sat up from his bed. Outside, the last sliver of the Coruscanti sun was slipping below the horizon, bathing the long traffic speeder lines in deep oranges and shadowy blues. Just another finished day. For some reason, it just filled him with frustration. It meant that another day was finishing in which people were disappointed in him. It felt like he would never get away from their stifling influence.

Suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia, Anakin suddenly felt a strong desire to get out. Out of his room. Away from Obi-Wan, the masters, the other padawans. Out of the Temple. He needed to get out. To _think_, for once.

He already knew where he would go. Whenever he needed to clear his mind, he would go to race speeders and swoop-bikes down in Coruscant's lower levels. Although he had not gone recently – not with the increased number of missions he and Obi-Wan had been assigned – there were always others there, simply looking for the thrill and excitement of racing, just like Anakin.

It was not hard sneaking out of the Temple. Anakin had done it before, and no one was looking to notice him. Besides, Anakin knew ways of slipping between detection. It was something he had learned up a long time ago, picked up during his time in Mos Espa and perfected when he was adjusting to Temple life. He was a professional.

The lower levels were a dangerous place, at least in the words of Obi-Wan. Anakin thought otherwise. Sure, one would encounter the spice-addicts, prostitutes, smugglers, or scum of the city, but for Anakin it was the one place where he could behave freely without drawing the attention or disdain of others. Aside from the dim and the smell, it was not too bad of a place. If one watched his back.

He made his way through the lower levels easily. He had been here many times, and he knew where he was going. It was not long before he reached the familiar pipelines that marked their racetrack.

"Hey, Sky!" was the immediate greeting from Pollux when Anakin stepped into the arena. The heavyset Kerestian waved over to him from where he was standing in a group of racers a little ways off.

Anakin could not help but grin at the sight of the familiar racer, his troubles and regrets suddenly disappearing. Why did he have to worry about them anyway? He didn't. At least not while he was here. He was here to clear his mind, to forget.

Pollux made his way over to Anakin in his usual sideways swagger as the group broke up and headed off in separate directions. He carried a swoop-bike helmet under his arm, and a huge, lopsided grin on his face.

"Sky, haven't seen you in a while!" he exclaimed. "How's life been?"

"Same old, same old," he replied vaguely, though he could not prevent a genuine smile from spreading onto his face at Pollux's warmth. He had never told Pollux of his life at the Temple, and if Pollux knew, he never brought it up.

"Planning on racing a few today?" the Kerestian asked him through a chuckle. He seemed to know Anakin was being vague, but he didn't seem to care. None of them discussed their private lives here. At least not while sober. "Could really use you on our team."

Anakin smirked. It would really depend on how interesting the competition was. "Who's racing?" he asked Pollux, scouring the group of racers who were assembling a little ways off.

Pollux followed the direction of his gaze. "Tanith, Dani, Eal-Fex… and _Scooper_, apparently. Chancellor knows if he'll win anything, but he's a loyal racer, anyway."

Anakin watched as the group greeted one another. There were four or five of them there together, and each had gear already tacked on – the slick armor, helmets, and gloves. Just seeing them made Anakin itch to get back on one of the bikes.

"Word has it that the out-of-town biker gang is also planning on showing," Pollux told Anakin. _Competition_ was what he was telling Anakin. They were racing for something more than just victory.

"How high are the stakes?" Anakin asked him. The higher the stakes, the more interesting the competition.

"Good amount of credits, but the jackpot lies among the fire-water that comes with the package." Pollux winked at Anakin. "Two crate-fulls."

Anakin smirked. He didn't care much for the reward, but if there was one then the race was bound to be good. He was already hooked. He had been even before he had asked. "Well, we'll just have to see who gets it, then."

* * *

Revving up the engines was one of the best feelings in the world, especially because it was preceding what Anakin knew what would become the thrill of a race. It was the build-up of adrenaline, and that was the best rush one could ever get.

Anakin could feel the engine vibrating beneath him, sending blood tingling to his legs and outstretched arms. He clenched his hands impatiently on the bike's handlebars, so hard that they turned white. All he had to do was release the brake before he would shoot forward, and if the referee could get the other racers together, that moment would not be far away.

Anakin glanced sideways at the other racers lined up at the start. For the most part, they were all ready too. The joint rumbling from their engines filled the track like a deep purr. The pungent smell of whirring mechanisms billowed all around them.

The racer closest to him glanced his way as they waited for the wave of the referee to start the race. "You're going down, Sky!" he shouted over to Anakin, revving up his engines in a challenge. Anakin was not sure who he was – he could not identify the racer because of the black helmet and leather jumpsuit covering his features, but even over the loud rumbling of the engines, the voice did not sound familiar. He was probably one of the biker gang Pollux had previously mentioned.

Anakin did not have time to consider the meaning of his words, because a moment later, the referee's hand came down, and the race began.

Anakin floored the engine pedal, and the bike shot forward. It was not easy to pull ahead of the other bikes, if only by a little bit. He didn't expect to get far ahead this early in the race, not before the racetrack had thrown in a couple tosses and turns. The swoop-bikes matched one another in their speed capabilities, but it was the racer's ability to pilot the bike through the turns that allowed one to pull forward and win a race.

Anakin guided the bike out of the tunnel where the race began and allowed it to ride up the embankment of the track, pulling past other racers who were slowing to take the turn. When he was a fair distance ahead, Anakin allowed the bike to leap from the curved wall and down in front of the other racers, cutting them off and therefore blocking them from trying to pass him in return. Anakin did not expect them to, but it was better to be aggressive while racing than to be polite and risk victory in the chance of an unusually lucky racer.

Soon, about halfway through the race, Anakin was able to distinguish the other racers who were most likely to challenge his talents. One of them was the racer who had called over to him at the starting line – Anakin could identify him by the stripe on his swoop-bike. The other racer was one of Pollux's gang: Dani, a female Mirialan and one of the best pilots Anakin had encountered. He was evenly matched.

As the race progressed, the three of them soon left the others behind, and, having no one else to take out, began to grow aggressive with one another. Anakin quickly learned that both Dani and the other racer, like him, were bold racers. Both were not hesitant to cut others off or push the speed capabilities of their bikes, even at the risk of their own safety. It led to a few near-collisions between the three, and plenty of scrapes and last-second breaking. The competition did not bother Anakin, however; it only continued to stimulate him. The longer the race continued, the more the adrenaline built up inside of him. His limbs pulsed with energy, his heart raced inside of his chest. This was why he loved to race. The bike was almost like another part of his body. It was easy to guide, to turn, and to direct. It allowed him to move faster than he ever had before. Just the thought was exhilarating.

They were about a mile from the finish line when Dani was forced to drop out due a scrape with the tunnel wall. And then Anakin got his chance. As the other racer's bike swerved in momentary confusion due to the flames and debris from Dani's fallen bike, Anakin immediately hit his acceleration, passed over his opponent's bike, and into the lead.

An array of curses suddenly pelted at him when the other racer noticed the trick he had pulled. Anakin could sense waves of anger coming from him. Apparently, he was not pleased at all by the turn of events. He had expected himself to win.

Anakin ignored him, simply gripping the handlebars all the tighter, when suddenly a hit from behind pushed his swoop-bike forward in a jolt. Anakin risked a glance behind him, and was met with the rapidly approaching nose of the bike behind him. It rammed into the back of his bike again. Anakin cursed as his bike gave another jerk. He could already tell that his engine was not appreciating the less-than-friendly interaction with the other bike. Gritting his teeth together, Anakin refused to budge, continuing to move back and forth to prevent the other speeder from passing.

The curses behind him grew, getting stronger and louder, but Anakin was not about to be intimidated by him, not when he was so close to the finish.

The collisions between them grew stronger, and soon Anakin was feeling his whole body jerk with them. He was going to have bruises tomorrow. He could already feel it.

Then, suddenly, over the deafening rumbling of the swoop-bikes, Anakin abruptly became aware that blaster shots were being fired. At him. The realization alone was enough to make his bike momentarily swerve. Suddenly alarmed, Anakin glanced behind him, and was horrified to see the racer behind him holding a small blaster.

The racer aimed again, and fired, and just as Anakin realized what he was trying to do, his bike was hit from behind. He was not aiming for Anakin; he was aiming for the bike. He was trying to pull Anakin from the race by way of more illegal means.

Anakin could sense it before it occurred. A brief flash of an explosion blinked through his mind a split second before it happened, so just as a blaster shot found the ignition sequence of his bike, Anakin leapt from the seat. Behind him, as he launched through the air, the bike exploded in an angry burst of fire and hot air. The explosion blew heat and debris from behind him, ruffling his hair and scorching his robes.

He hit the wall of the tunnel much harder than he had expected he would. The hard collision with the wall knocked out all of his breath, and he could hear the distinct crack of something important in his chest as his body collided the solid surface. His skull smacked against the wall as well a moment later, sending dizzying images racing through his head. Then he fell to the ground like a rag doll. Although he initially tried to twist around to turn his fall into a roll, he ended up not having enough time, and the collision with the ground was just as painful as that of the wall, except this time the pain was concentrated in his ankle, which had taken the roll for itself and had only slightly softened his heavy descent to the ground.

Anakin lay there for a moment after it had happened. He could not think past the clouding spikes of pain coming from his ankle and chest. It was crippling him, and all the pain was giving him a horrible headache. The tunnel had long past fallen quiet, due to the desertion of the other racer. His opponent was probably pulling across the finish line right then, victorious. A cheater.

Though his head suddenly swam with clouded thoughts, it must have been somewhere in Anakin Skywalker's mind that he needed to get off the track. Other racers were coming on their own bikes, and he needed to get out of their way. Anakin pushed himself up, and nearly vomited when another burst of pain caused his breath to hitch and his body to seize.

"_Kriff_."

He was going to faint. He was going to fall over. The tunnel around him rocked sloppily. The concentration of pain was in his chest and in his ankle. Anakin didn't doubt that at least something was broken. His head swam. Wait, what – what did he need to do? He was filled with a sense of urgency; he had known he had to do something, he was in the middle of doing something, but he had forgotten what… He needed to get… he needed to… Obi-Wan wasn't going to be happy.

The blurred tunnel spun around him when he finally managed to stand. He didn't remember much after that, most likely due to the dizzying amount of pain shooting through his ankle, which he was forced to use to move off the racetrack. He didn't think it was broken, but it was causing him a considerable amount of pain even so. He supposed he was lucky it hadn't broken. If so, he might not have been able to walk on it at all.

The trek back to the Temple was long and pain-filled. Anakin had to stop multiple times on account of the pain wracking his chest and ankle. He found it hard to breathe, which he supposed was not doing much for his already lightheaded state, and the nausea from before was not gone, even though it had diminished somewhat now that Anakin was using the Force to block out some of the physical pain.

Anakin took the less-populated pathway through the Temple and to his dormitory. He didn't want to encounter any of the masters, or any of the padawans. He did not want to have to deal with their questions or disapproval of where he had been. That was, _if_ he was even able to explain it to them if they asked. He was afraid that if he tried to open his mouth, the only thing that would spill out was the embodiment of his nausea.

His initial plan to return to the Temple by 2200 hours had been way off. From his judgment, it had taken him an hour and a half to return to the Temple, pushing him close to morning by the time he arrived. Immediately, worry seeped into the little space he had left to feel. If he was stopped, he was sure the masters would have a lot to say to him. He wanted to avoid that at all costs. He couldn't get in trouble twice in a day. Asking the Council's pardon once was enough, but not twice for serious rule violations. Gritting his teeth once more, Anakin plowed on, trying to move a bit faster. It was laborious moving his body, but he instructed his feet to continue to carry him step by step, trying to tell himself that the pain would stop the sooner he reached his destination.

No one ended up stopping him. It probably helped that it was so late – very few people were around, and none seemed to notice the slow-moving figure along the Temple's shadowy walls. He made it to his dormitory around midnight. Obi-Wan's door was already closed as he passed by. Anakin doubted that it had been opened since he had left, or if it had, Obi-Wan had not gone far. After their arguments, Obi-Wan always seemed to want to be alone or to meditate. It was probably his way of clearing his mind of Anakin. Anakin gritted his teeth as his ankle threatened to cave out on him. He didn't have the emotional capacity to be angry with Obi-Wan right now. Besides, Obi-Wan would be the one who was angry when he found out about what Anakin had done. At this point, with injuries like this, it was inevitable.

Maybe he could hide them, Anakin thought dimly as he entered into his bedroom and attempted to painfully strip off his boots. His ankle was only likely sprained, and his other injuries would heal in time. If he had a good night's rest and eagerly accepted meditation over lightsaber practice, he was sure he could heal faster than he expected, and without Obi-Wan's knowledge. Or he could use the Force. Couldn't Jedi heal with the Force?

A sharp burst of pain caused Anakin to hiss as his second boot came off the foot of his injured ankle. It had swollen much larger than he had expected it could. Then, exhausted beyond words or thoughts, the Jedi padawan collapsed into bed without stripping his clothes. He could only hope that his Master wouldn't be the one to wake him in the morning…


	3. Hiding the Evidence

Chapter Three: Hiding the Evidence

Anakin was awoken early the next morning by a deep, dull ache in his body. Immediate confusion crept in. It felt like his muscles were sore, as if he had had a long day of lightsaber training. Mmm, why was he sore again? He didn't recall having practice yesterday; he had gone to class. Then it hit him. His eyes shot open. The accident! …_Shavit!_

Anakin closed his eyes again, as if closing the world out could make what happened disappear. A part of him was pleading that it was only a dream. He could barely even remember last night. Was it only a dream? Anakin opened his eyes and cautiously shifted his leg.

Nope. The crippling pain that shot up from the source was real, causing him to gasp in surprise and press down on his ankle to somehow numb the feeling. He gritted his teeth and waited the pain out. It faded to a dull ache a few moments later.

He collapsed back into his pillow, gasping from the exertion. He could feel his body creak and pain hitch in his chest. He probably had a broken rib, judging from his shortness of breath and the discomfort in his chest, and he definitely had bruises all over his body.

Anakin removed his belt, tabard, and undershirt gingerly. It seemed that last night he had not had time to check for blood or bruises, because both were rampant over him. His clothes were smeared with dirt and blood, as was his face and his body. The sheer amount of things he still had to hide from Obi-Wan was almost overwhelming. He could barely remember last night, but now that he had a bit more logical judgment, he was frustrated that last night he had not had the sense to remove and hide his clothing, which reeked of rule-breaking evidence.

Breath hitching in pain as he sat up, he flung his stained clothes underneath his bed. He would take care of them later, when he could spare more movement. Right now, Anakin doubted that his clothes would be found. Whenever Obi-Wan entered his room, he rarely even touched Anakin's things. It probably had more to do with the fact that Anakin's room was a sloppy mess – despite Obi-Wan's efforts to teach him otherwise – but it still allowed Anakin some space to keep things hidden that he preferred his master not to see. As long as the things were out of sight, he was safe… for now.

Gasping from the shifting in his chest and ankle as he stood, Anakin made his way from his bed to his closet, where he knew he could find fresh clothes and something to wrap his ankle in until he could construct a better splint. He couldn't risk taking a trip out to the Halls of Healing. Attendance was documented in the logs, and even if it wasn't, the healers asked plenty of questions. It would definitely get back to his master, or one of the Council. Word spread fast in the Temple. Besides, a trip to the Halls could take much longer than he had time for, and Obi-Wan would be in his room at any minute.

He took his weight off of his ankle as he grabbed fresh robes. Every movement felt painful. Stretching his arms out to put on his shirt. Bending to put on his boots. Reaching for the bandages in the back of his closet. He was lucky Obi-Wan was not observing him then, because he had to pause every other minute to catch his breath.

He bandaged his ankle in haste, afraid that Obi-Wan would enter any moment. He usually came in around 0600 hours, and it was almost that time already, judging from the chrono on Anakin's bedside. Wrapping the last round of bandage about his ankle, Anakin then ripped the rest off to place back in his closet. He could not bandage it too tightly, or he would not be able to fit it into his boot. It was swollen enough as it was.

He was just finishing slipping his foot into his boot when Obi-Wan entered in, just on time. The Jedi Master seemed surprised that Anakin was already up, which Anakin supposed was a good thing. Obi-Wan was rarely pleasantly surprised.

"I see you're up," Obi-Wan remarked plainly. A raised eyebrow led Anakin to believe that his master still harbored a bit of bitterness from their last conversation.

"Yes, Master," Anakin replied, praying that Obi-Wan had not caught a glimpse of the white bandage before it had slipped into his boot. His ankle felt slightly better now that it was being held still underneath the bandage and the boot, but Anakin was smart enough to know that lightsaber practice or anything too vigorous would not rest well with the injury.

Obi-Wan folded his arms over his chest. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, young Padawan?"

Anakin continued to tuck his trouser hems into boots, fixing imaginary problems so he didn't have to look up and meet his master's eyes. Eventually, however, he came to face the realization that he would have to answer, and so he replied, "I regret nothing except the fact that Master Yoda and yourself were disappointed in me."

"That's not the point, Anakin."

"Then _what is, _Master?" Anakin replied back, an edge in his voice.

"Your _emotions,_ young one. You must control your emotions."

"I do not regret my emotions," Anakin replied stubbornly. "They make me who I am."

"I'm not asking you to become devoid of them, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied. His voice, though still low and controlled, was becoming harder now. "Simply to control them and now allow yourself to be ruled by them. We will not repeat this argument again."

Anakin said nothing. He was dreading Obi-Wan's revelation of their assignment today. If it was lightsaber practice, he was as good as a womp rat. …Perhaps it would be better to listen to Obi-Wan's lecture rather than risk it. But then again, Obi-Wan couldn't lecture all day… could he?

Anakin finally looked up to his master. Obi-Wan Kenobi was looking straight back at him, with folded arms.

"Although I admit there was some truth in what I said to you last night, Anakin," Obi-Wan began again. "I regret that my words had to be so harsh. I fear they hurt you more than-"

Anakin recoiled as if stung. "They didn't hurt, _Master_," he snapped. In truth, Obi-Wan's words had hurt, but he never intended Obi-Wan to know that. He didn't like others to be able to see right through him, and his master was one of the few who could. His pride was hurt enough as it was.

Obi-Wan withdrew a bit at the derisiveness of the statement, but made no reply. Almost immediately, Anakin regretted saying it, but he did not take it back, and he did not unfurrow his narrowed brows.

"Very well," were the words that broke the silence. "Lightsaber practice in five minutes, Anakin. Padawan Duels today."

No. Anakin's gaze flew to him. "What?" he asked incredulously, before he could contain himself. Obi-Wan must be joking. This was some cruel joke of the Force. Anakin couldn't _believe _this was his luck. This was unfair! Why did he always have to get caught?

"That's right, Padawan," Obi-Wan replied. His severe features booked no room for argument.

"But – but," spluttered Anakin. "We did that just the other day."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

"Can we do something else instead?"

"Not when the other masters and their padawans are expecting us."

Anakin was on the verge of pleading, and it took all his willpower to keep the whine from his voice. "I was thinking of trying the new exercises for meditation that Master Yoda mentioned."

"You can practice those in your own time, Padawan," Obi-Wan told him firmly.

"They can help me relax and let go of my anger."

"Training cannot wait for your latent ability to control your emotions."

"Master, we can do training another day," Anakin reasoned. "You already said that I was ahead of the other padawans in combat. We can miss one day to work on something else."

"Anakin, I do believe you're making excuses," Obi-Wan remarked, and though his voice contained a vague hint of sarcasm, Anakin knew him well enough to know that Obi-Wan was not budging in the least. "Your avoidance of training will only lead you to further friction with the other padawans, no matter how long you try to put off facing them."

So that's what Obi-Wan thought. In normal circumstances, Anakin might have challenged this thought, but now he swallowed his pride. "I want time to cool down," he admitted to Obi-Wan. "I'm not feeling well, and I want to get my thoughts together."

Apparently, Obi-Wan did not buy it. "Anakin, it's final. I already told the other masters we were going."

Anakin knew he was acting half his age at this point, but he was desperate. "Yeah, but you can always change your mind-"

"I'm not going to change plans because my finicky apprentice suddenly decides on a whim that he dislikes lightsaber training."

"I don't _dislike _it, Master," Anakin said hastily. "I simply was hoping we could do something different today."

Obi-Wan was looking at him in incredulity. Anakin rarely challenged him like this on such trivial matters. "You cannot run from your problems, my young apprentice."

"I'm not running from my problems," Anakin retorted back. "I just don't want to go to lightsaber training."

"Unfortunately, that is not your decision to make."

"I have a say-"

"You do _not_ have a say," retorted Obi-Wan. Somehow, he was still managing to keep his calm, low voice. His voice rarely fluctuated beyond that cool tone, merely strengthened in its intensity. "I am the master, and you the apprentice. You will do as I say."

"But Master-"

"And that's _final_, Anakin." Obi-Wan's gaze met his with intensity. That was his don't-push-me stare.

Anakin was going to push him. He was desperate. "But Master-"

"That's _final_, Anakin."

"Master, I don't _have_ to go!"

"You have no say, Padawan!" Obi-Wan said severely.

"Master-"

"That's _enough, Anakin_." Silence rang out in the room, as Anakin fell into an incredulous silence at the sudden harshness in Obi-Wan's voice. After a moment or two, Obi-Wan seemed to calm, but he continued just as firmly, "After yesterday's show, it would be wise of you to start showing respect for your elders. It's time you started listening. It's time you learned your place, young one."

And that was that. Anakin bit his lip and looked away.

Obi-Wan was going to kill him.

Maybe he could run away and join an Academy for the Air Force. Perhaps he was never meant to be a Jedi.

The gaze from Obi-Wan did not shift until he obediently stood and followed him from the room.

Walking was especially painful. It took all of his willpower to steel the walls of his mind and the expression on his face to hide the pain that was wracking his body. Obi-Wan walked much faster than Anakin remembered, and it was only the turbolift rides on the way that allowed him to gain a bit of his breath back before they would start up again. Anakin was extremely grateful that he had managed to bandage his leg before, or else he probably would not have been able to walk. The bandages at least kept his ankle stiff and tight enough that he was spared some of the discomfort.

"Keep up, Anakin," Obi-Wan ordered him when Anakin started to trail behind due to the pain in his chest. Obi-Wan probably saw his slow pace as only another act of defiance, one that he was determined to rid. Perhaps it was best he thought that way. If he found out what was truly the reason, he would be furious.

As Anakin followed obediently, his mind drifted to the scene that was yet to unfold, watching the possibilities play out again and again.

Would it be so bad if he simply lost in the first few rounds? He could make a mistake that was accidental, and then no one would suspect that he had done it on purpose. They would, if he played too easy. He usually won these sorts of things.

Or perhaps he could have a malfunctioning lightsaber. No. No, that wouldn't work. They always had extras for practice.

Maybe he could slip out before they noticed, and head for the freshers. He could say he was sick. Perhaps no one would notice his absence. No. Obi-Wan would notice. He noticed all deceptions.

But it was partly a good idea. He could fake an illness. But then he would be bantha fodder if they took his temperature, and even worse off if they examined his body for infections.

Anakin let out a shaky breath, as quietly as he could manage with Obi-Wan so close by. He felt like he was going to faint from the pain that was shooting through his body. If Obi-Wan had studied his face right then, he was sure he would appear extremely pale. He _felt _pale. He didn't know if that was possible, but he felt like all feeling had been drained from his face into his stomach, which was churning unpleasantly in protest.

They were at the training rooms then, and Obi-Wan pointed over to where a group of padawans was talking with one another.

"You'll be dueling Keth Drogan," Obi-Wan told him. His tone was abrupt. He was still cross from their argument.

Anakin nodded obediently in reply. It really didn't matter to him at this point who he dueled – all he cared about was that as few as possible masters were watching them as they sparred. He didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention; the more eyes that were on him, the greater risk that someone would take notice of his laborious movements.

Within the next ten minutes, the duel was set up, and both padawan's masters were stationed on the outskirts of the area. Anakin swallowed as he made his way into the dueling area. He knew that both his and Keth's masters would be watching them closely, and he could only pray to the Force that they would not become suspicious.

The duel began like any other. Keth brought up her blade in the opening stance of Soresu. Almost reluctantly, Anakin brought his up as well. He knew that the moment he was ready, everything would go wrong.

Although he was initially planning on dropping out of the fight after a few minutes, he soon discovered that he did not have to _fake_ weakness; he was actually struggling to keep up. His ankle and chest were screaming at him to stop, and he was already gasping for air, even only a few minutes into the duel. Though he tried to keep movements to a minimum, he felt like his chest was ready to cave in on his lungs at any second, and his ankle was ready to cave out, though the stiffness of his boot made that impossible.

Keth seemed to be a bit confused why he was not pursuing her more aggressively. She, like the other padawans, knew his style very well; he had beaten them all at least once. The Tholothian even paused now and then in the duel to circle him, as if trying to see why he was not fighting back. She probably thought that he was trying to mislead her.

It eventually came to a point where Anakin was too exhausted to even continue the façade. He had no energy for an offensive. His defense was slowly crumpling with every strike he blocked. He could feel his energy drain away, and little by little he began to make mistakes, to leave sides open, to swing too slowly, to give in when he was matched with a deadlock…

It came as no surprise when a mere five minutes later, Keth swung her lightsaber and twisted his from his hand.

The masters did not seem to know what to say. Keth's master as frowning with confusion, and Obi-Wan was frowning with suspicion.

"Again," Obi-Wan finally instructed, after a brief glanced towards Keth's master, who nodded to him. "Anakin, your sides. Keep your sides blocked."

Swallowing through his gasps, Anakin called his lightsaber to him and turned back around to face Keth, who was already circling him. His head spun with exhaustion; it felt like the arena around him was slowly tilting from side to side, as if they were on water. Or was she circling him? Was it his head that was moving?

Shaking his head to clear it, he tried to focus on the approaching figure before him. He knew his form was slumped – Obi-Wan would have much to say on that later, but he did not have enough energy to pull it back up. The slumped form at least did something to alleviate the pressure in his chest, which was building up painfully with each movement.

He took a step forward to meet Keth's blade, and he felt his ankle twist. Gasping slightly, his own blade fell short, and he ended up having to duck her lightsaber's swing towards his head.

No. Bad idea. The dizziness was back. And he could not draw enough air for how fast his heart was beating. As Keth moved back towards him, he was only able to block three of her swings before utterly losing his defense. His lightsaber clattered from his hands once more.

"For the _love of the Force_, Anakin!" Obi-Wan said. "Your sides! You're dropping your sides!"

Anakin sensed him approaching, though he was too concerned with the coming nausea to care. Unable to stand any longer, he moved into a squatting position and laid his forehead against his knee. He closed his eyes briefly, hoping to stop the swaying in his vision.

"My apologies, Master Ija Lau," Anakin heard Obi-Wan say to Keth's master. "I must go over a crucial lesson with my padawan."

Through his nausea and semi-cracked eyelids, Anakin watched Keth's boots hesitantly disappear from his view, and soon they were replaced by Obi-Wan's tan ones.

"Up."

"Master, please…" Anakin began. It came out much more feeble than he intended.

"I said, _up_."

Anakin obeyed. He ended up swaying a bit where he stood; the pain in his chest was building to be overwhelming.

"Opening stance," Obi-Wan instructed him. "Remember, as a Jedi, one must always ensure that one's sides are covered- Anakin-?"

Obi-Wan's words did not make it to Anakin. Finally overwhelmed from his pain and lightheadedness, Anakin felt himself lose balance. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground.


	4. Crashing Down

Chapter Four: Crashing Down

Next thing he was conscious of, he was lying on the floor, and Obi-Wan was rushing to him, saying his name over and over.

"Anakin. Anakin. Look at me."

Confusion met his words. His head was spinning terribly.

Wait.

Why was On-Wan saying his name?

What was happening? Someone was slapping his cheek.

Anakin felt hands firmly grasp his shoulders and roll him flat on his back.

No. Not good. His stomach did not like the abrupt change in position, and Anakin felt something caught up his throat. He ended up coughing up a thick red liquid all over his robes. Blood, was it blood? Either way, it was sticky and hot and tasted like metal and was all over his face and robes. Ugh. He'd have to change a second time today…

"Anakin," barked Obi-Wan, pulling his mind back to consciousness. "_Anakin_. Look at me." Suddenly his voice was distant as he directed his voice elsewhere. "Alert the medical bay, Padawan Zwann. Now."

Anakin felt a hand grasp his jaw and turn his head firmly. Obi-Wan was blurry above him. He could not keep his eyes open. His chest seized up with pain, causing him to want to curl up, but firm hands held him down.

"Anakin. I need you to communicate with me," Obi-Wan's voice commanded firmly.

Only confusion set in at the words. For some reason, Anakin could not focus enough to absorb or understand them. Another wave of pain and nausea swept through him. He clutched his chest. He could not breathe- he could not breathe-

Hands probed his body, his arms, his neck, his chest-

Anakin gasped when the hands put pressure there and pain shot from the source. He could feel more blood in his mouth, and he ended up choking on it as it came up his throat. Only the hands that turned him over allowed him to spit out the foul-tasting fluid. The pressure of the hands on his chest was firm.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan barked. "Can you hear me?"

Yes. He could hear him. But he couldn't breathe. No matter how he tried, his lungs didn't seem to be working. They weren't working. They weren't-

"Can-" Anakin gasped, his breathing turning into hyperventilation. _Can't breathe_. "Can't-"

Before he could even finish – if he even was _able_ to finish – he felt himself being lifted up in Obi-Wan's arms, and Obi-Wan began to walk briskly out of the training room, slow at first, and then with increasing pace. Soon, however, it didn't matter to Anakin where his master was taking him; the warmth and soothing heartbeat were quickly lulling him to sleep, and he was floating away…

* * *

"Technically, it's called Pneumothorax," the healer told Obi-Wan as they stood outside of the operating room.

"What does that mean?" Obi-Wan asked him, folding his arms across his chest as he glanced through the glass windows where his padawan was lying unconscious on the medical bench.

"…It means that his lung was punctured, in this case by his rib."

Obi-Wan held in a sigh, reaching up to rub his face. It all had happened so quickly; he still had not had time to process what was going on. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Master," he finally admitted. How could Anakin just suddenly collapse like that? "Is this condition spontaneous?"

The healer inclined his head gracefully. "In some situations," he said. "In this case, our examinations revealed it was induced by severe physical trauma."

"Trauma?" echoed Obi-Wan incredulously. He had not expected that to be the reason why all this had happened.

The healer inclined his head once more. "That's what we've found through our data."

Obi-Wan shook his head, frowning. The healer must have been mistaken. Anakin had not experienced any trauma. Or at least, he had not been showing any signs of trauma until now. "How could this have happened?"

"I was actually hoping you would give us that answer, Master Kenobi," the healer replied. "It would greatly help our treatment of your padawan."

"I'm afraid I don't know, Master," Obi-Wan replied. "To my knowledge, Anakin has not experienced any severe trauma as of late."

"To your knowledge," the healer reminded him. "But you admit you are not certain."

Obi-Wan hesitated. He was not sure what the healer was implying, but he decided to let the comment slide. "He was engaged in a physical brawl with another padawan yesterday afternoon," he told the healer.

"Was he injured from the altercation?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Other than a bruised cheek, no, not to my knowledge."

"And did he appear physically unwell after the incident? …An individual with an injured rib would have had difficulty breathing, moving, or performing any strenuous activities…"

The scene flashed back unbidden. Anakin's furious face, frustrated and hurt beyond words, as the boy passionately yelled accusations at him. _You correct me constantly! You expect me to listen to you, but you never do anything except criticize my actions!_

Obi-Wan turned his head away. No. No, Anakin hadn't been unwell. He had just been upset. His apprentice would not have had the strength to push such an energy-draining disagreement if he had been unwell.

_Why can't you see my accomplishments too, instead of dwelling on my faults and making me feel like I have to constantly deserve your attention?_ He could still hear Anakin's angry words circling in his memory.

Finally, Obi-Wan gave a stiff shake of his head.

"Then I suspect that this is not the trauma we are searching for," the healer said.

"I don't know of any other incidents."

"Perhaps you had better keep a leash on your padawan, Master Kenobi," the healer replied. "Because our reports say otherwise."

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly at the indirect criticism. "What exactly have you gathered from the examination?"

The healer's features hardened. "In addition to a punctured lung and broken ribs, we also discovered he has a sprained ankle, a minor concussion, and serious bruising over his body."

The words echoed in his mind, spreading a feeling of deep-seated guilt through Obi-Wan. It didn't make any sense. How could Anakin have managed to hide all of those from him? How could have _he_, Anakin's master, failed to see them? Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose.

_Keep up, Anakin_. His own barking words echoed back in his mind from just earlier that morning, when they had been walking to the training rooms and Anakin had been lagging behind. Anakin had not been being defiant after all; it had been his pain that was holding him back. Obi-Wan shook his head in disappointment of himself. The less-than-acceptable duel. The argument in Anakin's room about lightsaber practice. They had all happened because Anakin had been in pain.

Why. Why had Anakin not told him? Why had he insisted on keeping his injuries secret? Did Anakin truly think he could hide it from him forever? The knowledge that Anakin had not trusted him enough to tell him something that serious spoke multitudes of their relationship.

Obi-Wan swallowed. He knew it was not wholly his fault – part of it was Anakin's – but he still could not help berating himself about it. He could have handled the situation better. Perhaps if he had not pushed Anakin so hard, Anakin would not be in the condition he was now. Perhaps if he had listened to his apprentice, this would have not happened.

"One of the reasons why we were hoping you could tell us if Anakin had experienced a traumatic experience lately was because the damage of his ribs is severe," the healer continued. "Too severe to have been caused in a simple accident."

Obi-Wan looked up at the healer. "What do you mean?" The healer wasn't implying that Anakin had managed to inflict such an injury on himself, was he? Although Obi-Wan had never been extraordinarily close to his padawan, he would never have labeled him as masochistic. Anakin was too proud for that.

"What I'm trying to say lightly, Master Kenobi," continued the healer, "Is that your padawan's injuries are too widespread to have resulted from a simple accident, such as a one-time trip or a fall. His ribs are fractured in multiple areas, suggesting that he was hit severely multiple times, negating the possibility of a simple fall, but the injury is not concentrated enough to have been caused by a kick or a punch, and his other injuries do not support the idea that it was a fight, either. A fall down multiple flights of stairs would be my next guess as to the cause of your padawan's injury, but his body weight is not heavy enough to have wrecked such damage."

Obi-Wan shook his head. He had no idea the injuries had been this serious. "What would be your best guess, then, Master?"

"A craft accident," answered the healer. "It would explain the widespread bruising and the multiple hits that could have injured his lungs. A jump from the craft could have caused the concussion and the sprained ankle."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "He has been in a craft accident recently, Master. I'm afraid I think you are mistaken."

At first, nothing but a forced sigh greeted words. Then the healer replied, "I suppose no one will know until he wakes up."

Obi-Wan nodded, willing to drop the topic now that they had reached a dead end. He could sense that his peer was becoming slightly frustrated with the circling conversation. "…When will that be?" He turned his attention back into the patient's table, where Anakin was lying still, covered in wires and tubes. His shirt had been removed, revealing large amounts of bruising on his chest. His ankle was elevated and splinted. He was still unconscious. He had not woken at all since they had brought him there.

"Within the next hour, hopefully," the healer replied. "You're free to go in if you wish, Master Kenobi. We'll be back when he wakes up."

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said. He and the healer exchanged a small bow of respect, and the healer headed away.

Once more in silence, Obi-Wan spent another minute outside the room. He was not quite ready to go in yet. He needed to clear his head from all of his regrets.

He knew he shouldn't blame himself wholly. Qui-Gon used to warn him constantly of the dangers of dwelling in the past. _Keep your mind in the present, Obi-Wan, _he used to tell him. _Let the past dwell on itself. _But Obi-Wan could not help but think of what he could have changed to prevent this. Although he did not know what had happened to Anakin, or why, what he did know was that Anakin had not had enough trust in their relationship to tell him. He must have felt afraid, something a padawan should never feel towards his master. Obi-Wan still couldn't believe it had gotten to this point. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he had been too harsh on the boy lately. The child was raised outside the Temple, after all, and used to dealing with emotions. Perhaps Anakin had misunderstood him in their argument last evening. He had only been trying to encourage the boy to _control _his emotions, not to rid himself of them. Or perhaps Anakin had felt that he was being ignored because the others were pushing his feelings to the side. Perhaps this was just typical teenage behavior? But then why didn't the other masters seem to be dealing with it?

He has had a shaky childhood, Obi-Wan reminded himself. A slave's life. Only his mother to give him support and love. Perhaps taking the child from his mother had not been such a good idea. It was like uprooting the child's dependence. And the death of Qui-Gon shortly after had probably only made things more complicated. With him gone, Obi-Wan had been the only one left. Obi-Wan, newly knighted. Obi-Wan, who had not known how to handle a young child, or a needy one at that. He had been dealing with his own grief, his own troubles.

The child had looked up to him. When Anakin was a small boy, it was apparent. Obvious. He could see the shine in Anakin's eyes whenever he spoke to him. He could see the dejection when he pushed Anakin to the side. Such emotions had gradually faded from Obi-Wan's view as the boy had matured and grown. He had assumed that the admiration had died away. Was it possible that it had not?

The figure of Anakin looked pale on the cold table. He looked thin. He was growing too fast for Obi-Wan's liking. He would soon be taller than Obi-Wan. He had already matched him in height. He was growing up. Obi-Wan wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Finally stepping forward, Obi-Wan passed through the sliding glass doors into the hospital room. The room was mostly bare, and it smelled faintly of sanitizer and blood. From the metal table on which Anakin had been placed to the metal walls and whitewashed ceiling, the room felt cold.

Obi-Wan approached Anakin slowly. He could see the boy's eyelashes fluttering, revealing cracks of blue. He was slowly regaining consciousness.

Obi-Wan waited until the eyes completely opened. He watched as they blinked lazily, sleepily at the ceiling above. The eyebrows twitched in confusion. Apparently he had not yet realized where he was. He would, but with eyes drooping fast, Obi-Wan doubted it would be soon.

The eyes eventually flickered briefly towards Obi-Wan, and although they were too exhausted to be fully conscious or lucid, he sensed them latch onto him anyway.

_Obi…Wan. _Came the voice in his head from across their bond. It was weak and feeble, distracted and stilted. Most certainly not conscious thought.

_Anakin, sleep for now,_ Obi-Wan told him, hoping that the suggestion would send him right back into his deep sleep. He felt something stir inside of him as he watched Anakin's eyes struggle to stay open. Something warm latched onto him, and he could feel it softening his heart and mind.

_Master…_

The boy was trying to stay awake. He was so determined.

_Sleep, Padawan, _Obi-wan told him, his voice softer. 

_…I'm… sorry. _

The words echoed strangely in Obi-Wan's mind. He didn't know why Anakin was apologizing, or if he truly was more blameworthy than Obi-Wan took him to be, but neither question was to be answered right now. It was not the time. Obi-Wan just allowed the words to slide past him. He and Anakin would have a long talk when he awakened, and hopefully they could straighten things out then.

Obi-Wan waited until Anakin had fallen back into the envelopment of unconsciousness, and then, with a brief parting touch of the boy's forehead, Obi-Wan left him to sleep.

* * *

The next thing that Anakin was aware of was the blurred ceiling above his head. It was white, but Anakin could make out blurs of gray and brown moving about him.

Slowly, bit-by-bit, the moving blurs condensed into faces, and soon Anakin was able to identify those around him.

"Padawan Skywalker, can you hear me?"

It took Anakin a moment to focus. When he had finally identified the source of the words as a blur to his left, he gave a small nod.

"Try to focus on me." It was a gentle feminine voice.

Anakin blinked a few times. The figure was becoming clearer and clearer.

"That's better," the feminine voice informed him. She must have been a healer, judging from her white robes and the way her lekku were held away from her face.

_Where am I,_ was what he wanted to ask, but it ended up emerging as a rasp and cough. His throat was unbelievably hoarse.

"The tube in your mouth has recently been removed," the voice informed him. She seemed to be taking out the hydrating IV in his arm. "Your throat may feel dry."

Anakin cleared his throat. "Where am I?" he finally managed to say, trying to ignore the feeling of the cold medical utensils.

"Halls of Healing," the healer informed him. "You were just taken out of bacta. Can you tell me if your head still hurts?"

If his head _still_ hurts? "No." What did she mean by that?

"You woke up briefly before, do you remember?"

Anakin shook his head.

"Do you know why you're here?"

It all came spiraling back to him; the argument, the race, the crash, and the duel the following morning. He had never truly forgotten, only pushed the memories aside. How quickly it all seemed to have happened.

"Where's my master?"

"I need you to answer my questions, Padawan Skywalker."

"Yes, I remember," he replied.

"You will have to explain the source of your injuries to your master," she replied. "They were extensive, and require further explanation."

Anakin nodded. He would deal with that when the time came.

"Are you aware how much damage your body sustained?"

Anakin paused. He was not sure he wanted to hear, but the healer seemed like she would tell him anyway.

"Punctured lung. Broken ribs, sprained ankle, and a minor concussion. You had to go in to surgery for your lung."

Anakin nodded. His face must have betrayed his discomfort, because the healer continued.

"Your master has already been contacted and informed of these. He has been instructed to make sure you are gentle on that ankle for the next month or so. Bacta did its job on your ribs, but ligaments are entirely different."

Anakin nodded again. The healer's gaze was very stern, and it was clear that she wished to see Anakin's complete cooperation. Once the healer seemed to be appeased by his agreement, she inclined her head in acquiescence and turned away.

"Where is he?" Anakin asked her, before she could pull away too far.

"Your master has already received the message that you are awake. He will come to collect you shortly."

Feeling like all he could do was acknowledge the healer's words, Anakin simply nodded again. There was not much he could do, not when everyone – including his master – had already been made aware of the situation. He both dreaded and wished for their approaching confrontation. He knew there would be things that Obi-Wan wanted to say, things that Anakin would not want to hear, but Anakin also needed to speak for himself. Anakin sat up from his bed and glanced out the window where he could see Jedi moving to and fro. Hopefully they could get things sorted out.


	5. Resolution

_Hello all! I apologize for the wait; fan fiction was giving me enough error messages to drive me up the wall. To say that I was frustrated was an understatement, and so I finally just gave up and waited out a day. But here it is now! Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter Five: Resolution

Anakin could sense his master coming before he saw him. There was no mistaking the familiar bright presence approaching. Anakin's anxiety skyrocketed.

He waited until his master had entered the waiting room, and then he rose to his feet. The healer beside him rose as well. Anakin didn't know why he was there, when both Obi-Wan and he had already been briefed, but the healer had assured him that it as more of a medical supervision precaution than a matter of guardianship. But to Anakin, it was still embarrassing all the same. He was being picked up as if he was a youngling. Though he had assured the healers multiple times that he would keep rigorous activity to a minimum, they had come along anyway. So much for his pride.

Obi-Wan headed right over to them. His face was almost completely unreadable, and when he reached them, he folded his arms over his chest and looked expectantly at the healer.

"All cleared, Master Kenobi."

"Thank you, Master."

Obi-Wan waited until the healer had given a curt smile and exited to turn his attention to Anakin. Anakin almost immediately flinched. Obi-Wan's eyes had that uncanny ability to see right through him, and right now his gaze made Anakin uncomfortable.

"Well, Padawan," he began once they were alone. His arms were folded tightly across his chest. "There's much to explain."

Anakin gave a short nod, finding it was difficult to look his master in the eye.

Obi-Wan's gaze did not falter as he looked at Anakin expectantly, though sternly. "We can talk when we get back to the dormitories," he granted him. When Anakin dipped his head in assent, he nodded to Anakin's ankle. "Can you walk on it?"

Anakin nodded again, and when Obi-Wan had studied his response to confirm that his apparent lifelessness was not stemming from hidden pain, they turned from the Halls of Healing.

"It was difficult explaining this to the Council." Obi-Wan broke the silence once they had entered Anakin's room. "The masters were not happy with my lack of understanding of the situation."

It was obvious that Obi-Wan expected an immediate explanation. Anakin nodded once more, but it was apparent to both that his continued silence was only delaying the inevitable.

Obi-Wan seemed to sigh in resignation. "Please explain, Anakin, because I find myself almost at a loss for words." His arms folded over his chest.

It was the moment of truth. "I'm sorry, Master," Anakin began. He worked to steel his emotions; it would help neither if he were to become agitated. Then, Obi-Wan would be even less willing to listen. He took a breath. "I left the Temple and was involved in a crash."

Obi-Wan nodded calmly, but the upward twitch of his eyebrows revealed that he was not wholly surprised. "What type of a crash, Padawan?" He was not fooled by Anakin's ambiguity.

"I was racing."

"Racing on the streets of Coruscant?"

"No," Anakin quickly corrected. Obi-Wan's tone sounded incredulous, and Anakin didn't need his master to believe he was more reckless than he already was. "It- it was a track. Swoop bike racing."

Obi-Wan merely blinked. It was apparent he was waiting for Anakin to continue.

"There… there were some complications with the engine."

"And you crashed?"

"I had to jump off."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up. There was a long pause, in which Obi-Wan seemed to be drinking in his words. "How far were you from the ground?"

Anakin shook his head. "Not far."

"The healers said your ribs were broken in multiple places."

Anakin bit back a wince. "I hit the wall before the ground," he told Obi-Wan.

"Mmm." Obi-Wan was not happy, but he seemed content with that answer. "How did you get back?"

"I walked."

"You walked."

It probably sounded ridiculous to Obi-Wan, but Anakin had had little other choice. Besides, he could barely remember the night as it was. His mind had been clouded in judgment. Probably due to the concussion.

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan gave a reluctant nod. There was a pause of silence. "You didn't inform me of this after the fact."

Anakin glanced downward. "I- uh..."

"Were you trying to hide it from me?"

Anakin let out a huff of air. He had, but he felt ridiculously stupid now. He mumbled something indiscernible.

"Louder, Anakin."

"Yes, Master," he mumbled.

"Why." It was spoken like a statement, but Anakin knew Obi-Wan was demanding an explanation. It was amazing how his voice and features could remain so level.

Anakin glanced at the foreboding figure before him. He was at the height of his master, and had been for the past year or so, and yet he felt like a youngling under Obi-Wan's gaze. "…I- I thought you would get mad."

"That you were injured."

"…That I disobeyed your wishes and left the Temple."

"I see."

Another pause.

"And did you do it out of spite?"

Anakin hesitated to answer. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable, and his ankle was beginning to feel sore again. The healers had mentioned it needed rest, after all.

Obi-Wan seemed to notice his shifting and realized at once that he was in discomfort. His lips hardened.

"Come, Padawan," he said. The guiding touch on his back led Anakin to one of the sparse benches in the dormitory room. Anakin took his seat heavily. The relief was tangible, but Anakin tried not to show his exhaustion too readily on his face.

"You are well aware of the rule discouraging travel outside the Temple," Obi-Wan began again after a few moments of silence. He seemed to be taking a different approach, something less confrontational.

Feeling a blush spread across his cheeks, Anakin nodded after an uncomfortable pause.

"Why did you do it?"

"…I… needed some space." Anakin was feeling extremely self-conscious under his master's intense scrutiny. "I was angry. I needed to get away from the masters and other padawans."

"Because you were frustrated at them."

"Yes, Master."

"Why is that?"

Anakin shook his head. He didn't want to get into this. Not now.

"Anakin."

He sighed in frustration. "They don't listen. They don't understand."

Obi-Wan's lips twitched downward, cynicism deep in the lines of his mouth. "I see," was his only reply.

After the moment of silence stretched on, Anakin's self-consciousness quickly evaporated under his discomfort. He let out a frustrated huff of air. "I'm going to be punished?"

"I never mentioned a punishment, Padawan."

"But you're going to give me one."

"What makes you think that?"

"You're upset."

Obi-Wan seemed slightly taken aback at Anakin's assessment. "You think I'm upset."

"Why wouldn't you be? I disobeyed the Temple's rules and lied to cover it up."

Obi-Wan gave him a stern look. "I'm not upset about that, young one."

It really didn't matter to Anakin. Obi-Wan always found the pickiest things to become upset about. And Anakin was not about to pick his hope up from the lower levels. It was inevitable that he would still be punished. "But you are upset."

"I'm upset that you tried to cover up something as significant as this," he replied to Anakin. His arms returned to his chest, and he seemed to ignore Anakin's surprise. "I don't know why you would choose to do so, but it upsets me that you choose to undergo such physical pain in order to avoid discovery."

"To avoid confrontation or argument," Anakin corrected sharply. "You criticize me enough for getting into trouble already."

"You could have considered that before you left."

"I didn't know it would end like this, did I?"

Obi-Wan was silent in reply. It was not a resigned silence; the arch of his brow told Anakin that he was not about to surrender his opinion. Not yet.

"Well?" Anakin prompted him after yet another awkward silence. "What's my punishment? Meditation every day? Crèche duty?"

"We can't very well do lightsaber practice," Obi-Wan pointed out cynically.

And that was that. Anakin held in a sigh. Obi-Wan was way too upset for it to end up any way but badly for Anakin. "Is it up to the Council, then?"

"Is what up to the Council?"

"My punishment."

Obi-Wan fixed him with a curious look. "I'm not going to tell the Council."

"What?"

"I'm not going to tell the Council, Anakin."

"But… why?"

"Would you prefer I do?"

"No! No."

An eyebrow rose. "Very well, then."

Anakin could not believe it. "But… why?"

"The Council does not need to get involved in all matters. They do not have to know the full story, and they certainly have better things to do than worry after the whereabouts of one padawan."

"…But I broke the rules."

"And I can handle it perfectly well," replied Obi-Wan. "The Council does not need to get involved."

Trying to push through his confusion, Anakin replied, "I thought you always consulted the Council, Master."

"Not in all matters, Padawan," was the reply. When Anakin glanced up, he thought he caught the faint glimmer of humor in Obi-Wan's eye.

"So why aren't you punishing me?"

"I never said _that_, young one," Obi-Wan said.

"So I still get meditation."

"Every day."

"For how long?"

"A month."

Anakin groaned.

"You don't have anything better to do, Anakin. Not until that ankle is better."

"It'll be better sooner than a month."

"Nice try, young one."

"…Can I at least have breaks?"

"Maybe."

"Can I choose my own meditation exercises? Master Yoda showed us-"

"Maybe."

"How about telekinesis practice?"

"_May_be."

"Do I get time to sleep in?"

An eyebrow rose. "No."

"But my ankle needs to-"

"_Nice try_."

Well, it was a nice try. Anakin gave a silent sigh, and although he knew he was being punished, he felt somewhat lighter, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps it was the knowledge that it hadn't turned out as badly as he had expected, or perhaps it was because he was finally becoming used to the idea.

Or perhaps it was the knowledge that Obi-Wan had not turned him in after all. That, if anything, was refreshing to him. And it gave him room to hope. Perhaps his master was trying to help after all. Maybe, just maybe, his master had a hint of empathy.

"When are we starting?"

"Now."

It was going to be a long day. He could feel it. As Anakin and Obi-Wan made their way into the shared area between their rooms, he could feel his energy level plummeting. His emotions must have showed right through him.

"It won't be so bad, Padawan," Obi-Wan told him. "When I was your age, I used to do meditation every day."

"Things haven't changed since then, Master."

"Do you do your meditation every day?"

"Well… no."

"Then stop complaining."

Anakin took a seat beside his master on the floor. Obi-Wan was already closing his eyes, sitting in a cross-legged position. Suddenly, just as Anakin was about to follow his lead, a pillow flopped down in front of Anakin. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, confused. It was obvious that Obi-Wan had directed it there, but for what purpose Anakin was unsure.

Without opening his eyes, Obi-Wan answered sternly, "Don't shuffle too much. And keep that ankle elevated."

"Yes, Master." He moved to prop up his leg.

"Now, immerse yourself deep in the Force…"

* * *

_Just wanted to say thanks so much to all who reviewed, especially to froovygirl, Jedi Master Misty Sman-Esay, , Pam, Kungfukittykat, GL30, Alwayspretty, skygawker, Karis, and any other reviewers. Your support is brilliant - you all are the best! Please review, and feel free to check out my page for updates/progress reports on future stories._


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